Fiction

School Scares

It Came From Third Grade

The fish are back. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is two of them fighting, hovering just below the popcorn ceiling. Well, that’s a development, at least. I yawn and rub the crustiness out of the corners of my eyes.

You walk down the hallway, suspicion on Your tongue. You remember it all, except You don't because Your memory is awful. 

Everything is capital R E D A C T E D. Redacted. Gone.

   “AELIA, Come back inside!” I shouted. I chase after her running into the rain. 

   “AELIA!” “AELIA!” Worrying, I run deeper into the woods. 

“ I have a story to tell you!” a voice says, you will lift up your head from your damp hands. An old man is smiling at you from the end of the bench, he sits politely as he clings to his walking stick.

The sun was setting, casting an amber glow over the street as I waited on the worn wooden bench at the bus stop. My eyes were drifting along the cracks in the pavement when I noticed someone sitting down beside me.

In Wraiths Academy, far from the embrace of the sun’s rays of warmth, shrouded in an impenetrable armor of bristling willows, there was a boy. A peculiar boy.

 As my classmates and I are dismissed from school, I decide to take the long way to my bus stop. For I have quite some thinking to do. I watch the birds fly. The squirrels scrambling for shelter as the howling wind picks up.

"I have a story to tell."

The bench is cold as glass and the fog strings its way across the street,

an engulfing mass of smokey water.

The bus is late.

"Woo-hoo!

Losing Selena

Lost. Afraid. Scared. These words describe the beginning of my life as an enslaved person in the United States. 

I remember the last time I walked home by myself.